Kiss Gun Secret Agent AU/Jeweled Dagger, Silver Kiss
Friday, 2319h: Silver Kiss Headquarters It was something of a matter of pride for Garnet East-- her rivals' inevitable surrender. Her smile curved wickedly as she watched from her rooms on high, her windows glowing with the reflection of that tower's neon signs: Silver Kiss Escorts, LLC. She lifted her chin slightly and slowly, carefully turned her flat-screen to her channel of choice for the evening-- though it was far from cable television she would be watching tonight. A low chuckle slipped from her throat. Golden Gun and its liaisons weren't your typical standard primetime broadcasting... and she had no doubts that the subtle notices she'd slipped to Mirriah Glass had at last come into the foresight of their directors and upper-level agents. It had been obvious from the start that the FBI planned to play Golden Gun against Silver Kiss all along-- particularly when Garnet herself had received an almost transparently anonymous client wishing to offer payment if she would channel her resources into taking down that particular rival. Honestly, she thought, what a crowd of fools. There was no need to honor them by bothering to show up personally. Garnet's doorbell rang, then, giving pause to her line of thought. With a deft flick of her nails, magic sparked forth from her fingers and the door unlocked. "Sable," she curled her hand beneath her chin. "You're late!" "Oops, sorry," the Black Swan breezed in, clearly not apologetic at all. Her jumpsuit was unzipped to the waist, practically falling from her shoulders, her hair mussed. "I lost track of time... but who can blame me, Garnet, when we have all of these lovely ladies on hand, just waiting for a little... entertainment?" "You naughty bitch," Garnet teased, toying with the hem of her silk dressing-gown. "And after I went through all the trouble of kicking out my own afternoon fun." "And you dressed up for me, too?" Sable's lip quirked up with a wry humor. "I'm flattered." "Oh, I'd hardly call this dressed up. In fact... I'd hardly call this dressed at all," Garnet pretended to inspect her only article of clothing for a moment, trailing her own fingers down the bright red fabric. "So?" "So, what?" Sable made herself comfortable in the luxuriant pile of pillows and knit blankets Garnet called a bed, kicking off her heels and crossing her legs. "Dish, girl," Garnet expertly uncorked the champagne bottle sitting on her nightstand, extended a glass in Sable's direction. "Who and where?" "Oh, you know," Sable accepted the glass. As if giving herself a moment to think, she took a long, heady sip. "The girls get... rowdy, if you leave them alone at night. I wasn't paying attention to exactly who was involved, but it was good." "Mmmm," Garnet pursed her lips and took a sip of her own glass. A touch of red lipstick, freshly-applied, clung to the rim. "You better not be telling me there was a party on the ninth floor again... I would have hated to miss one of those." "Sadly, the research lab technicians weren't doing anything when I stopped by on my rounds," Sable sighed, as if wistfully recalling some long-ago night. "Trying not to scare off the newest recruit. She's married, if you can believe that." "What a shame," Garnet clicked her tongue disapprovingly. With a bit of a sly smile, she added, "You'll have to let me know where you met up tonight, then. If the ninth floor technicians aren't indulging in Friday night fun anymore, I'd ever so hate to miss the opening of another, hm... opportunity." "What if I want to call dibs?" Sable bared her shoulder and batted her lashes with a mockingly false coyness. "Like back in our high school days." "Come on, Sable... we're grown girls," Garnet arched her back luxuriantly against the pillows she'd propped herself up on. Her fingers, index and middle poised in a V, rested on either side of her red, red lips. "I think we've learned how to share our toys by now." "Oh, I know exactly what it's like to share a doll or two with you," Sable smirked, twining her fingers around the stem of her champagne flute in a way that seemed almost obscene. "But the competition's half the fun, don't you think?" "We did play glorious games out on the town... sharpening our flirting techniques, dancing into the night," Garnet's tongue flicked out, as if she could taste those past evenings still, somewhere within her champagne. "Twenty-eight isn't too old to play those games again." "Mmm... tonight was more of a spontaneous thing," Sable purred, once more managing to avoid anything resembling an actual answer. "Next time we make plans, I'll be more than happy to challenge you to a few... party games." "It's too bad you're so terribly busy these days... too exhausted from managing business even to go out for a few drinks with your BFFA," Garnet cooed, pressing her hand to her chest and feigning offense. Then, she narrowed her eyes in suspicion... less a mockery than she made it out to be. "Unless... no. You haven't found anyone serious, have you? Gorgeous women and tipsy fratboys at parties everywhere will mourn over it. They'll sing eulogies about you on the dancefloors!" "Eulogies? Really, Garnet?" Sable laughed, amused by the imagery. "Yes," Garnet winked back. "They'll say, here once lay Sable's body, where she used to get game before she settled down. May she rest in boring, monogamous peace. The virgins'll lay down their flowers, sorely sorry they missed the days you were on the floor. The DJs will have to remix funeral dirges if they want to set the mood properly. Dress code'll have to be suits or leather... mourning-black, either way." "I do love a good pair of leather pants," Sable grinned wickedly, taking another sip of her drink. "That," Garnet tilted her half-full glass in Sable's direction. "That sounds like you're telling me there is someone serious." "I've just been too tired to go out after work, lately," Sable replied, but Garnet did not hear, with all due clarity, the no she wanted. It was an evasion-- carefully worded, in that way of Sable's, to imply that she'd been staying in. But, though that may indeed have been the case, it was suspiciously ambiguous to Garnet's eyes. One did not ascend to the leadership of a spy coalition without noticing these sorts of gaps between the lines, after all... and Sable had never mentioned she'd been staying in alone. "Our lease on Table Four at the Red Shoes Dance Club lasts another week still," Garnet pursed her lips, playing along to see if she could eke out even the slightest bit of further information. "Since we won't be renewing it, now that Golden Gun's taken the bait... we should take advantage of it while we still can. We don't have any missions or particular administrative work planned for tomorrow night..." "Maybe. It would be smart to keep our schedules cleared... in case something comes up last minute, I mean. We'll have to prepare for welcoming... them," Sable averted her eyes, flicking them towards the television screen instead. Her voice dripped with contempt, "Golden Gun." "Ah, yes," Garnet clicked her tongue, deciding to play along a little. "The fools who bought the FBI's flimsy excuse to hire them." Sable tapped her index finger against her cheek-- either thoughtful, or attempting to fake the subject as one of interest. "Has it been like this all evening, or did I miss the good part?" "Ever since Agent Mittens last messaged me," Garnet answered easily-- but did not miss the subtle change in topic. Nevertheless, she dropped the matter for now... if only for friendship's sake. "Luckily, you didn't miss anything. I'm starting to think Golden Gun won't show." "They'll show, all right," Sable brushed a bit of hair from her own face. "They'd have to be fools to pass up so generous an offer." "Unfortunately, that's true," Garnet's lips twisted into the moue of a frown. "My informants suggest they've got enough agents and resources to nearly double our ranks... even after their unfortunate dalliance with the Fairytale Bureau. I hate to subject our people to the acquaintanceship of Romeo Cupid longer than necessary, but the FBI itself is larger than any one organization can handle alone." "What a total hoe," Sable snorted, and this time, the vitriol in her voice was genuine. "Honestly, everything about that guy... eugh. It's half a miracle he was capable of running anything like a privatized espionage organization at all. Lousy in bed, for one... no finesse, no strategy. No stealth." "They're all idiots," Garnet smiled, sharp as a knife, vicious even in her amusement. "I suppose you could say that would make Romeo Cupid the king of fools, wouldn't it?" "Hear, hear," Sable tipped back her glass, vindicated. "I don't know who he thought he was fooling with that Director M bullshit." "Worked on the FBI, didn't it?" Garnet pointed out. "So says our inside agent, at least. Apparently, organized government's still guessing at Director M's alleged identity." "Incompetent fools, the lot of them," Sable leaned back against the pillows, crossing her long legs with the sort of sensual ease that characterized her every movement. "I know that all of our girls, at least, can hold their own. Think rationally. Strategize. You won't see anything like a misplaced earpiece among our ranks. We should've done this a long time ago." "Hmm... I admit, I used to have a particular fondness for contracting out my wicked doings," Garnet inspected her nails, briefly--delicately manicured, trimmed short. "Why do something yourself, after all, when you have the resources to persuade someone else to do it for you? Still, I never was completely satisfied with Golden Gun's work." "Given what our agents found out about their infrastructure, is it any wonder?" Sable chuckled darkly, taking a drink from her glass. "Though I suppose their lack of organization worked out all the better for them in the end. Communication's such a mess over there that not even our girls could smoke out all the details." "Or sleep out all the details, if you care to get specific," Garnet smirked, sipping at her own drink. "Really, you'd think their agents would know better... loose lips sink ships, after all." "I suppose, if you want a job done right," Sable held up her empty champagne flute. "You have to do it yourself." "I'll drink to that," Garnet re-filled Sable's glass and topped off her own. "Cheers." "Cheers," Sable tapped her glass to Garnet's. For a moment, they both drank deeply. "Ah, look," Garnet lifted her lips from her glass, sharp eyes picking out movement on their screen. "Seems like the show's starting." "Seems like you're right," Sable knocked back the rest of her champagne. She chuckled darkly, "I'd know those damn shoulders anywhere." Friday, 2319h: Hotel Sandman A soft tap on his earpiece brought Percy Boots offline with Golden Gun's base downtown, even as he cautiously, cautiously escorted the woman known only as Mirriah Glass out to the suggested rendezvous at the Red Shoes dance club. "It looks like our illustrious Director M got tied up with something back at Headquarters," he announced out loud. "Said he'll be here in half an hour." "We'll be a little late for your appointment," remarked the woman on Mirriah's other side-- an old friend of Percy's, a certain Scarlet d'Herblay. "If you will forgive my asking so... I seem to recall that it isn't usual to hold a business meeting at a discothéque, unless that has changed recently?" "Ah... yeah, a little different from the typical venue. Not exactly used to being put on security detail, if you get the gist," Percy shrugged, checking the sharpness of his claws almost habitually. "Thanks for showin' up all short notice, 'specially since you retired from the biz. Shocked the hell outta me when you just up and quit." "Not a problem," Scarlet threw a charming, roguish wink in Mirriah's direction. "It is never trouble for me to help keep a pretty girl safe from harm." "Thank you," Mirriah remarked stiffly. She drew her cloak of shadows closer to herself. "My... sources. They lead me to believe that the agents we'll be meeting here tonight are some of Silver Kiss's most dangerous. I don't know what kind of game they think they're playing... but just in case it's a diversion from real assassins, after my information from the shadows..." "Don't worry," Percy retracted his claws. He grinned easily, "You're in good hands. I'll have you know that Scarlet was top-notch before she left-- just below yours truly, of course." "Below? You are mistaken, Monsieur Boots." A sly smile played across her face, "I seem to recall my scores in marksmanship and dueling exceeded yours by quite a significant amount. The numbers do not lie, as Monsieur Arctic would agree, I am sure." "And I say there was a calibration fluke. Ryusei's a damn good technician, but even his machines have been known to malfunction sometimes," Percy crossed his arms, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Point of the matter is, we lost one hell of an agent when you left us. Not to mention, you left me at the mercy of our illustrious Director M... and let me tell you, he he threw a bitchfit to last throughout the ages over how you left the team." "What can I say?" Scarlet twirled a bit of hair between her fingertips. "Regardless of which treasures and what beautiful firearms you come across in this kind of unusual company, ma chérie finds the entire business distasteful... too dangerous, or so she says. Her favor is the one jewel I would not trade for anything else in this world-- and so I quit, because she was uneasy about the line of work. I still say that it was worth it to offer her that soundness of mind." "Who would've thought, huh," Percy chuckled. "The girl who used to have a different bêtise on every shore leavin' it all for a straitlaced life with a straitlaced girl. How is ol' Destiny Claus these days, anyways?" "Very good, lately," Scarlet's lips couldn't help but twitch upwards at the mention of that name. With a slight chuckle, "It is nice that she appreciates my... previous work experience. Particularly with, ah, breaking and entering cases around that time of year, especially now that chimneys are becoming less popular than they used to be." A low smile played on Mirriah's lips, even beneath her cloak. "What," she began suddenly, "Aren't you going to tell him?" "What, you holding out on me, Scarlet?" Percy's ears perked up, surprised. "Aren't I practically your brother?" "Yes," Scarlet shook her head wryly. "And also infamous for running your mouth off. I can see, Madame Glass-- if that is, indeed, your name-- your sources are as accurate as people say they are. Very well, then, I won't complain if you tell the story... I admit, I'm curious to see just how good you can be." "You were spotted entering a jewelry store in Fairytale France earlier this week," Mirriah divulged, something like a smug satisfaction as she crossed her arms. "Tuesday, to be precise, a little bit before noon. My sources tell me that you made the purchase of a certain engagement ring. Snowflake-patterned, star sapphire center, wasn't it?" Scarlet's eyes widened slightly, "Mon dieu, you're good." "You're planning on proposing?" Percy's brows flickered upwards for a moment. He grinned, ribbing her with a good-natured ease, "Damn, Scarlet. You didn't mention you were that serious about her. I'm almost insulted you didn't tell me first!" "I could say the same for you, Monsieur Boots," Scarlet wiggled her eyebrows. "I have been hearing things about a certain Demoiselle Lapin in your acquaintance. How strange it seems to me that you should devote your affections to a single petite amie!" "What?" Percy turned his hands outward as if making a show of his innocence. "That's my destiny, isn't it? Catchin' rabbits, runnin' around on adventures. I'm not exactly thinking about marriage or anything like that." "Marriage? Mais non," Scarlet turned her head to the side slightly. "I am referring to, perhaps... settling down." Percy pressed his lips together and tried not to think about how deeply that cut to the heart of the matter. Even now, preparing to finalize their mission, tucked into the privacy of a hotel room just across the street from the Red Shoes, even now with claws and blades at hand... there was a part of his mind that lingered on Celes Mochigome, the Lady Moon Rabbit and future pastry chef to the very gods themselves. He'd considered it all before, that entire business of possibly settling down. Images danced through his mind at a slow stutter late, late at night. A hundred futures passed through his mind, yes, futures where there would be no Golden Gun, no obnoxious Director Ms calling Percy away in the middle of the night or femme-fatale types who wanted Celes dead for reasons unknown. Futures where he'd give up on the midnight parties, the moonlit break-ins for good. Futures where he'd someday walk on the straight and narrow, each day identical to the last-- monotonous. It was impossible for him to fathom. Even now, when Celes had likely returned home to Percy's apartment that evening, even now when Percy had gotten himself on good terms with her mother-- he was all too aware that this would be over the very moment they officially allied with Silver Kiss. Percy would no longer be a legally-hired espionage contractor in the eyes of the law, and Celes... Well. He had always known they would have to part ways eventually. Percy licked his lips for a moment before he at last spoke, feigning his casual air as best as he could. "You mean like you and Destiny?" "Ah, more or less," Scarlet hesitated. She knew him too well, could almost sense that she'd touched upon a nerve there. Attempting to assure him, "I get the feeling your Demoiselle Lapin may be a little different from ma bichette." "Ha! You got that right," Percy smiled, taking extra care to show off his teeth this time. Perhaps a little too fondly, "Might not look like it, but she's one hell of a spitfire. Best damn cook this side of Ever After, too." Having before borne repeated witness to this particular spiel of Percy's, it was Mirriah who spoke up next, "My sources inform me that Director M is just down the hall." "Sources? What sources?" Percy huffed, offended at being cut off. "You don't even have a MirrorPhone out... how can you possibly--" His sentence was brought to a sharp halt as the door slammed open in that next moment, and there, in all of his sooty glory, stood Director M-- Romeo V. Cupid, to those who didn't bother much with formality (and Percy, of course, never did). "Long time no see, Director," Scarlet bowed politely at the waist. "Yeah. Long time no see, Agent d'Herblay," came his curt reply as he pushed back his hair. He made a face as his hand came away blackened with ash. "Nice to see you haven;t lost your taste for gold completely." "Lose my taste for gold?" Scarlet pressed a hand to her heart, winking roguishly. "Perish the thought." "No chance of you getting on board with Golden Gun again?" Romeo pressed his lips together, his jaw tight. "It's looking like a position's gonna open up in administration... maybe more than one, depending on how tonight goes." "Sorry, Director, I'm living life on the straight and narrow nowadays," she shook her head. With a mischievous grin, she added, "Or... the gay and narrow, as the case may be." "Fine, fine, you're free to go," Romeo crossed his arms, looking altogether less-than-pleased as he shook the last bits of ash from his wings and watched as Scarlet at last departed the premises. "Look what the cat dragged in," Percy slyly added, amused by the ash and dust that clung to Romeo's skin. "What in the nine hells happened to you?" "Doesn't matter. Let's go," he scowled, adjusting the collar of his artfully-disheveled shirt. "I've dealt with enough delays for one night." Percy pointed to his own cheek, "By the way, you got a li'l something right there." Romeo checked his reflection in the windowpane, his frown deepening. "Dammit. Wait there for a moment." "We're late enough as it is," Mirriah reminded, helpfully lifting one of many compact mirrors from her handbag. "You don't want to keep them waiting... Silver Kiss is known to be pretty vindictive." "What can I say, babe?" Romeo threw a wink in her direction and snatched the mirror from her hand. "Perfection takes time." Mirriah frowned deeply, but merely retrieved another mirror from her handbag-- for though Silver Kiss was known to be vindictive, Romeo was known to hunt down those he viewed as traitors with his own two hands. She disliked her chances of getting out alive if he were to make his displeasure known through one of his... bloodier methods of ensuring loyalty. "I'll inform you if they've left, then," Mirriah sulked, taking the opportunity to touch up her own red, red lipstick. "What kept you, anyways?" Percy casually picked a bit of imaginary dirt from his claws. "Looks like it was a wild night back at HQ... really sayin' something, there, considering what it's like normally." "I had a little unfinished business with an agent of ours," Romeo wiped the soot from his face and began to carefully fix his smudged contour. "The damn fool who got us into this situation with the Fairytale Bureau to begin with." "You could have said no to the idea," Mirriah added pointedly, her perfectly-redone lips turning downward in a frown. "Yeah, well, it isn't every day you get pardoned from a lifetime of crime, and then get government permission to keep on committing them... to keep on living the life of a rogue without the authorities breathin' down your back," Percy halted for a split second, uncharacteristically tacit. He had not yet forgotten what that edge of legality meant for him... what it meant for Celes. "It was one hell of an offer." "Should've known it was too good to be true," Romeo ran a hand backwards through his hair, his brow creased with irritation as it refused to stay put the way he wanted it to. "Not exactly used to being on the other end of the backstabbing, are you?" The corner of Mirriah's mouth quirked upwards. "All things considered... it's a surprise you didn't do something worse to Professor West for suggesting it." Romeo's expression darkened. "I should have done worse." "Why? What happened?" Percy grinned casually, looking rather like the cat who'd gotten the cream. Romeo shot a warning look in Mirriah's direction, "Don't you dare." "Well," Mirriah began slyly. "My sources tell me that you had something of a penalty planned out... ah, but the usual knives and bullets don't seem to do it for this one, do they?" Percy smirked. "Get to the good part. Where'd he screw up?" "I only heard rumors," Mirriah professed, feigning ignorance. "But I believe there was something like twelve hours hanging upside down from the ceiling on the itinerary?" "If you have to know," Romeo growled, unable to bear hearing the story from someone else's mouth. "I forgot about my wings on the way down from tying him. " "My... sources... tell me you threw quite the fit when they tangled in your silks," Mirriah's lip quirked upwards in amusement. "Perhaps did you trap yourself further in the struggle?" "Holy shit," Percy raised his eyebrows. "Damn, loverboy. I guess Ryusei wasn't kidding when he said you'd been tied up with something at HQ." As if something within him had snapped, Romeo's hand clenched, hard, around the compact mirror in his hand. The glass gave way beneath the pressure, shattering, shards digging viciously into his skin. With a sudden, abrupt movement, he slammed his bloodied fist against the wall, releasing a howl of rage and pain in equal measures. Percy and Mirriah exchanged a silent Look. They each backed up a couple of steps-- there was no predicting Romeo now, not when his mood had soured to this extent. It was a moment before he at last calmed down, his fingers slowly healing around the glass embedded in their flesh as the gods' own healing ability kicked in. "No comment," he muttered under his breath, even as he hissed through the pain. "And no fuckin' puns. Let's go." It was a tone that brooked no protest, and for perhaps once in his life, Percy held his tongue. Though he affected an easiness of air in his stride, kept his eyes sharp for potential threats in the surrounding area-- Silver Kiss agents foremost among those-- still, the though plagued him that this, tonight, would be the end of Golden Gun's dalliance with legality. He could pussyfoot around the final verdict no longer: it would mean the end of his own ill-fated affair with Celes Mochigome. But that, Percy figured, would be a matter he could deal with when the morning came. He squared his shoulders and, with every ounce of his feline grace, followed Romeo into the club. Saturday, 0004h: Red Shoes Dance Club Doing Garnet's dirty work was far from her ideal way to spend a night off... and, indeed, if the rumors were to be believed, dealing with the notorious Golden Gun would be the dirtiest work of all. Nevertheless, Brangwen Von Dark straightened her poise with all the grace due one of Swan Lake's ballerinas-- yes, an elegance even she was entitled to, Rotbart's heiress though she may be. Whatever anyone else might think, she was far from one of the usual lackeys, one of those girls who were in it for the money or the connections or even just the sheer thrill... one of those girls like Domino Mittens, unfortunately Gwen's assigned partner for this project. No, thought Gwen. Her involvement with Silver Kiss had nothing to do with anything of the sort... after all, she had not kept her taste for spilling blood a secret for all these years without learning a few tricks of the trade herself. While the stealth and the assassinations and the sly games they'd play with enemy agents were certainly enjoyable for her, there were far better ways of satiating her thirst than drinking from the fountain Garnet proffered. She was in it for Sable, pure and simple. Perhaps it was foolish of her, she thought, sensually brushing a bit of hair from her own face as Agent Mittens flirted with a nearby patron to score a few drinks while they waited. There wasn't any place for love in the business of privatized espionage. Still... it was Sable who'd asked her if she wanted to join up, Sable whose expertise had co-founded the organization to begin with. Sable who wore the cloak and dagger of Director Mimicry, who smiled at her when she returned from missions. Gwen had never truly been able to say no to that woman, the selfsame Black Swan she'd loved even from her teenage years. If that meant tolerating Garnet's orders for now, then so be it. After all... Gwen had never considered herself particularly above getting down and dirty to achieve her goals. (Capturing Sable's heart was perhaps the loftiest goal of them all.) It was, at least, a meeting worthy of an agent of her caliber-- and with a slow-rising satisfaction at the idea, Gwen thought that not even Garnet could deny her notable skill. Better than any of the fools at Golden Gun, she smirked, and shifted her shoulders just ever-so slightly. "It looks like our marks have just arrived," she purred beneath her breath, the lilt of her accent coloring her words. Sure enough, the crowd parted in that very moment, making way for Romeo V. Cupid and his impressive wingspan. He'd spread his feathers broadly, almost as a warning-- look, don't touch-- but Gwen knew better than to fall for such amateur intimidation tactics. The fact that he felt like he'd needed to cause a scene at all was as sure a sign as any that he was desperate. Perhaps even frightened, thought Gwen with no small amusement. She didn't vindicate him with even a moment of her own attention, her eyes lidded and heavy with dark, dark eyeshadow as she casually perused the bar menu at their table, pretending that she hadn't even noticed him. From the corner of her eye, she could see Romeo's brows crease in irritation. "Ahem," he crossed his arms conspicuously, annoyed at being ignored. "Sorry, sir," Domino stressed the words almost-mockingly. "We have an appointment with a lady scheduled for tonight. Though... if your cute cat friend isn't busy later tonight, I think I can make time for him somewhere in my schedule." Gwen set her jaw sternly, casting a slightly displeased look in the other agent's direction. "We will not be playing, however, until our business is done." "Of course," Domino bared her fangs slightly. "Business before pleasure. If only the woman we've got an appointment with were here... although I admit, the handsome cat is not the worst alternative." (And even Gwen had to acknowledge her amusement at the face Romeo pulled when he realized he was being passed up in matters of business and pleasure both.) "I'm here," Mirriah lowered the hood of her Cloak of Shadows, the tenseness of her jaw the only sign of her nervousness. "The message you left me was... very clear." "Mirriah, dear," Brangwen smiled, her voice syrupy-sweet. "We're so glad that you got our little... message. I see you've brought a couple of guests. Uninvited, but we are nothing if not accommodating hosts." "Oh, yes," Domino added, slyly sidling in with exactly five drinks. It was obvious that they had anticipated Romeo and Percy both showing up, invited or not-- almost to an outright intimidating extent. It was fascinating, the way Percy seemed to tense as he cautiously accepted the glass that was most definitively his. They'd gone to the trouble of seeking out their guests' favorite drinks... a much more subtle, elegant tactic than merely storming in and attempting to make oneself seem physically larger, thought Gwen. It was a careful web she wove, a net of cautious strategy. Romeo's cheek twitched. Unable to take the indignity of it all any longer, he blurted out, "She's not the company director, you know." "We're fully aware of just who runs the company officially, Director M," Gwen clicked her tongue with a note of disapproval. "Our business is with Mirriah... and her most competent colleagues." "'Scuse me," Percy interjected, crossing his arms tersely. His eyes narrowed, sharp and feline. "That sounds like you're trying to call Romeo and me incompetent." Gwen cleared her throat, her tone significantly harsher, "I'm afraid we've higher standards than agents who don't notice when a rival agent is in their vicinity. Least of all for the entirety of a first meeting and a car ride to a mission site." "Nothing personal... I'm sure you're more than adequate in... other ways," Domino purred, resting the tip of a gloved finger against her lip. "You are a lovely dancer, if that's any consolation." "Whatever the case may be, that is not particularly relevant at present," Gwen sent a reproachful look in her direction. "Nevertheless... we are prepared to take the chaff with the wheat, if that is what must be done to bring gems like Miss Mirriah into our fold." Mirriah's chin lifted slightly at that compliment. "Golden Gun appreciates that." "Yes," Gwen pressed her lips together, the black of her lipstick all the more prevalent. "It has come to our notice that you have at last become aware of a certain plot within the Fairytale Bureau of Investigation. Perhaps Mirriah knows best the details of the matter... the manner in which they sought to use Golden Gun as a tool to eliminate Silver Kiss, only to betray you at the end. A shameful waste of espionage talents." "Of course," Mirriah's red, red lips curved into a frown. "No doubt there were plans to use the information they gathered from our brief alliance... it's only lucky that our liaison prefers to keep quiet. The Fairytale Bureau doesn't even know who Director M really refers to." The corner of Percy's lip quirked upwards, amused. "Worst kept secret in Ever After's underground, if you ask me." "Excuse me? I'll have you know that it's a damn well-kept secret if the authorities don't know," Romeo pressed a hand to his chest, scoffing. "All the FBI knows is the information we were being paid to give 'em. Whatever else you have to say about the guy, the professor's not the worst at keeping a lid on things." "Your alternative funding resources should not be compromised, then," Gwen remarked, a mild note of surprise in her tone. "Better than we expected." "It is perhaps funding that may be the deciding factor of victory," Mirriah crossed her arms. "My sources indicate that permanent cuts to the FBI budget have drastically reduced their ability to handle certain less than legal organizations. I asked one of Golden Gun's leading MirrorNet hackers to assist me in obtaining their budgeting papers... it seems that the Fairytale Bureau is in even deeper debt than we thought." "How deep, exactly?" Gwen narrowed her eyes. "Enough that if we were to combine resources," Mirriah arched an eyebrow. "They wouldn't stand a chance." Perhaps entirely too late, the purpose of this meeting clicked in Romeo's mind. "This isn't just a ceasefire meeting... you're talking outright teaming up with Silver Kiss." "An alliance would be beneficial," Gwen confirmed, nodding slightly. "Temporary, of course... as soon as the FBI stops being a threat, we would go our separate ways again." "The government's own agents... some of the very enforcers of destiny itself," Mirriah murmured lowly. "We could neutralize them for a while. Plant a few red herrings here or there, maybe." "Or we could neutralize them permanently," as slow smile spread over Romeo's lips as he fingered the holsters at his hips, heavy in his implication. "Looks like it's your lucky day. We're in." Percy frowned, "What the hell, Romeo? You gonna make the decision for all of us just like that?" "If you don't like the decision, you can rack off, catass," Romeo snorted, even as he crossed his arms. "It sounds to me like you're makin' the choice based off of how many bodies you can put in the ground," Percy scowled-- something like irritation clinging onto his tensed shoulders, his pointed ears pressing back against his scalp. "I guess those ears really are good for something," Romeo grinned wickedly, flicking one of them inside-out with a deft movement. "You're hearing me correctly, Boots. You got a problem with that?" Percy gave pause for a split second-- a second that Gwen most duly noted, a predatory glint in her eyes. Where Garnet (and yes, too, Sable) might view Golden Gun as a nonthreat due to their personal contempt for its leader, the shrewd sorceress knew it wisest to never underestimate a rival. There was a reason why they'd been the best in the business before Silver Kiss, a reason why they still yet plagued the attempted hits and thefts and schemes all cross the switchboard back at HQ. That was the thing about using guns-- there was always the recoil, and even from this very moment, Gwen knew that the alliance would never be built to last. She armed herself for that inevitable explosion. Even the slightest mote of weakness or discontent among the ranks was another weapon to her, and every weapon within her hands drew her one step closer to the heart of Silver Kiss itself, to her ultimate goals. To Sable. "So, Golden Gun," her sharp voice cut through the silent tension, harsh as a dagger. "Liaison Glass. Do we have a deal?" Mirriah glanced in either direction, hesitating for a moment as she considered Percy's increasingly mysterious malcontent. Still, it was fear that won over in the end-- fear of being caught by the FBI, fear of what terrible things the Director might do if he did not get his way. "Silver Kiss," she began, pursing her lips. "Liaison Von Dark. We'll take the deal." "My directors have an opening available on Monday." The slightest of smirks danced across Gwen's face. "For drawing up the contract. Shall I pencil you in?" She watched the crease of Romeo's brow, the almost-exaggerated way in which Percy tried to pretend that he wasn't paying rapt attention. It was obvious, so obvious that they knew they had been cornered: either make nice with Silver Kiss, or play sitting ducks for the Fairytale Bureau. The choice was virtually nonexistent. Mirriah's jaw tightened. Nevertheless, with all of the innate dignity and professionalism she possessed, she answered: "Yes." Brangwen smiled. Said the spider to the fly, "See you then." Saturday, 0107h: Hired car in transit. It was a tense return to Golden Gun's headquarters, the silence in the limousine nearly palpable. Though there was scarcely half an hour's ride to the apartments and offices that made up their agents' garrisons, their IT laboratories, the minutes dragged on awkwardly as agent and director stared each other down in that vast tension. Ill at ease merely sharing a car with the two of them, Mirriah quietly excused herself to check her makeup once more, pulling her Cloak of Shadows down, down over her hair until she nearly melded into her seat. It would not be the first time Percy and Romeo would have gotten into a fight in a moving vehicle. Romeo's patience ran dry first, as was its wont, the words falling from his mouth with an acrid contempt: "What the hell was that you were trying to pull back there?" "I could say the same for you," Percy's brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing. "You don't know shit about what they're gonna demand from us if we sign." "Whatever," Romeo scoffed, unbuttoning his too-stifling shirt. "That's what negotiations are for. If the Fairytale Bureau thinks they can play us, we're not gonna take it sitting down." "And I say this Silver Kiss alliance deal is total bullshit," Percy snorted. "C'mon, Romeo, you can't seriously tell me you buy into all that crap about the FBI having plans to turn traitor. You've seen her e-mails... the Queen herself barely tolerates havin' a bureau of spies at all. Some 'questionable honesty' issue or whatever. You think they'd get away with some big face-heel turn like this? Silver Kiss has to be makin' it up." "That's what I would've figured, if Mirriah hadn't come up with literal copies of an FBI file," Romeo clicked his tongue, jerking his head in Mirriah's direction. "Whatever the hell you want to say about her anonymous sources, she's never turned up with false papers before. Besides... this ain't the first I've heard of a plot against us." "And you didn't tell me?" Percy raised an eyebrow. "'Scuse me if I find that a little hard to believe." "I thought it was just Ryusei being a paranoid fuck when he brought it up a few weeks back," Romeo crossed his arms huffily. "Some shit about the budget papers not adding up right on the upper level databases. Could've been a math error, just as easy. There wasn't any real proof, so I dismissed it. The professor's been playing Golden Gun's cards damn close since the start of it... tried to lecture me once or twice on how working for the FBI was a temporary solution or something like that. Wasn't really paying attention." "Come on, Romeo, you can't trust those Silver Kiss girls as far as you can throw 'em," Percy's claws flicked out slightly, almost involuntarily. "The government's at least got principles." "Could've fooled me, seeing how you and I spent the last eight years ignoring them. I didn't know you had such love for the law, Boots," Romeo crooned, sickeningly, sarcastically sweet. Then, suddenly, his expression grew dark. "Or, maybe, a love of someone who lives in the law." "She doesn't have shit to do with the fact you're making a stupid choice," a scowl drew across Percy's face. "Leave her out of this." "No," Romeo simpered. "I think she has everything to do with this. You almost threw away your entire life for her-- all nine of your lives. Sweet little law-abiding Celes Mochigome... the girl who couldn't stand dating a thief and and agent to the point where she fuckin' testified to send us all to life sentences on Antilla Isle." "What the hell was she supposed to do? She's a pastry chef," Percy threw his hands into the air, altogether irate. "It's not like I'm holding it against your law-abiding, matchmaker sister for ratting out HQ's location!" "Don't forget," Romeo spat, bristling at the mention of his sister's interrogation under the FBI. "They wouldn't have even found us out if you hadn't lost your damn earpiece while dancing with your precious Lady Rabbit. My sister spilled because they came battering down her door with sorcerers and guns. Your girlfriend practically volunteered to hand us over on one of her fancy-ass catering platters." "Because she's a pastry chef! They didn't exactly put stuff like Hero Training and Combat Magicology on her schedule back at EAH. She took her best chance at basic survival... same as you and I should be doin'," Percy crossed his arms, his chin raised defiantly. "I think you're forgetting that these agents are the same assholes who tried to kill Celes at the Lunar New Year party. We were even fuckin'... having peace talks, or some shit, with the assassin they sent to get her. Who's to say they're not gonna ask you to let 'em finish the job, huh?" "Who's to say I won't let 'em?" Romeo snarled. "She's more trouble than she's worth, Boots. What happened to the smooth-talker thief almighty, huh? What happened to bragging over getting anyone, anywhere and anyhow, to spend a night with you? Whatever she's been doing to you, I don't like it." "Good thing I wasn't tryin' to impress you," Percy crossed his arms, "I'm still the smoothest-talkin', sneakiest secret agent this side of Ever After. You sure as hell weren't complaining when I broke us into the Marches Noirs in Fairytale France." "You passed up a night on the town to help her sample macarons," Romeo tisked. "And now you're talking about giving up on Golden Gun because of her... giving up on the spy business just like Scarlet did. You're whipped, kitten." "Who says I'm giving up on Golden Gun?" Percy's back straightened, irritation crossing his face. "The hell was I supposed to think?" Romeo bit back. "It's killing me to sign on with Silver Kiss... but I can't pretend they're not our best chance of staying in the business after that FBI fiasco. It sure sounds like you're planning to ditch to live in the eye of the law." Percy scoffed, affronted. "You think I want to be a regular, law-abiding civilian?" "You'd be bored out of your skull in the first fifteen minutes," Romeo laughed, gesturing to himself with spread arms. "Same as me. We're two of a kind, Percy... probably the only reason why we haven't killed each other yet." "You and me?" Percy wrinkled his nose. "What the hell do we have in common?" "Besides great taste in gold jewelry?" Romeo smirked, toying slightly with one of the piercings in Percy's ear, "You know what I mean, loverboy," Percy snorted, batting his hand away. "Nothing much... except that we've got certain hobbies the law happens to disagree with," Romeo lightly fingered the holster at his waist, as if to check that his guns were still on him. "Being part of Golden Gun lets us use talents that would be useless as a two-bob watch anywhere else, and you know it." "I... yeah. Maybe I can see that," Percy furrowed his brow, even as the car came to a slow just outside the building. "What I don't get is what made you think I was gonna leave Golden Gun. Worried you were gonna lose your best agent?" "You know what? Maybe I was," Romeo clenched his teeth, pushing the car door open before it even came to a full stop. He glanced back for half a second, "But if you think your girlfriend's gonna stay with you after we sign with Silver Kiss... you've got another thing coming, Agent Boots." He stormed away, his undone shirt billowing behind him as he peeled it away. Romeo's wings unfurled furiously behind his back, and in the next minute, the wind carried both off into the unknown night, lost to that brisk westward breeze. "Well," muttered Percy, under his breath. "Fuck you, too, Cupid." Mirriah cautiously scrolled down her MirrorPhone feed, trying desperately to avoid saying anything about the matter. The last thing she wanted to do was get involved with yet another infamous argument between Romeo V. Cupid and Percy Boots-- the director and the topmost agent of Golden Gun. There was no telling how this one would end, and whatever debate there might have been about the factuality of her existence, one thing was for certain: she preferred to continue existing, thank you. Silently, silently, she prayed that things would not worsen yet this weekend. They had an exceedingly important meeting to take care of on Monday. Saturday, 0156h: Silver Kiss Headquarters Silver Kiss Headquarters, for all its virtues, lay further from the city center than Golden Gun's, its sleek and elegant, granite-canvassed façade towering over nearly every other building in the red light district. Its windows stood blacker than most-- the majority of Silver Kiss recruits gone that late-night evening for dancing or flirting or weekend retreats-- but Gwen's eyes drew to the very top of that building, that red neon Silver Kiss Escorts, LLC that declared their business for all the world to see. Their business, or at least its official cover. Through the tinted-glass doors and the bustling atrium, Gwen walked briskly towards the elevators, paying little attention to the gentlemen and ladies that sat comfortably against the plush seating. Civilians, she thought, customers come seeking an escort for some high-end party or another. She doubted that they, in their lives of blissful ignorance, even knew what Silver Kiss truly was. Maybe, she smirked, they would not let their guard down so much before the receptionist. Whatever you might have said about Mei Hua otherwise, the girl had a particular knack for some of the more... subtle poisons. There were few others who could pair deadly nightshade with the perfect Bordeaux. "Where to now, Von Dark?" Domino purred slightly, leaning against one of the polished columns in their lobby, as fancy as any luxury hotel-- indeed, that was what the building had been built for, once upon a time, before it fell into Silver Kiss possession. Gwen pursed her lips. "Top floor. She wants us to see her in her bedroom. Again." "Is it really that much trouble to accommodate the request?" Domino lifted an eyebrow, deftly pressing the elevator button to go up. "It isn't proper to hold business meetings in such a casual setting," Gwen pressed her lips together. "Amid... bedsheets and pajamas and that utter mess she calls a room." "Why wouldn't it be?" Domino winked, chuckling a little at her own joke. "We do so much of our other business between the sheets, anyways, it hardly matters." "Nevertheless," replied Gwen, stepping into the elevator upon its arrival. "I don't like it." "What, the mess?" Domino turned her head to the side, her ears twitching slightly with that movement. Gwen pressed her lips together. "Yes," she lied through her teeth. "The mess." "Normally, I'd say you should offer to help her clean. The way you do for Director Mimicry sometimes, you know?" Domino mused, punching in their floor destination. "But I caught Director East giving orders to prevent the cleaning crew from so much as touching her doorknob. I'm starting to think she likes it like that." "Maybe," Gwen's tongue clicked. "More likely than not, she's being a stubborn bitch about it." "Like she's in denial about her room being disorganized at all?" Domino chuckled slightly. "Yes," Gwen answered frostily, not particularly keen to carry on a conversation about Garnet at all. It was a mixed blessing when she was spared from further conversation on the topic by the elevator stopping about halfway up, a certain princess stepping in, her gauzy netting floating delicately behind her. Dark, dark hair, gently perfumed, and her face as pale as the moon-- it was unmistakable that this was Philomela Towerbird, formerly the tower-trapped damsel of The Canary Prince tale. Presently, one of Silver Kiss's foremost agents in escape artistry. "Agent Towerbird," Domino smiled, showing off all her pointed teeth. "A pleasure to see you tonight... my thanks, as always, for your assistance in helping me escape from Antilla Isle after that... botched Mochigome job." "Agent Mittens," she replied quietly, clutching her magic book to her chest at the mention of that word: escape. "It was no trouble for me to merely do my job... and it would be terrible for Silver Kiss to lose one of our best. And... good evening to you, as well, Liaison Von Dark." Gwen narrowed her eyes slightly, scrutinizing the woman. The edges of her magic seeped from her fingers, drawing the shadows closer to her body as if attempting to convey something to her-- but just what yet, she could not tell. "Philomela Towerbird," she began slowly. "Have you been feeling well lately?" "I... I am fine, Liaison Von Dark," she seemed to shrink against the wall, her book clutched to her chest as if a shield. "I... thank you for your concern." It was no secret that Agent Towerbird feared those black and mysterious magics, the ominous spells that crossed the realms betwixt life and death itself-- it was the princess in her, Gwen figured, and thought no more of it. Still... it would be a terrible waste of talent if she were to flee Silver Kiss altogether for the sake of her discomfort with dark magic, and so Gwen hushed those shadows with a dismissive flick of the wrist. "Thanks are unnecessary," Gwen answered simply, trying not to startle her further. Philomela bit her lip and glanced to the closed elevator doors, seeming relieved that she had been excused for the time being. "Up to the roof again for some fresh air, Towerbird?" Domino broke the silence, cocking her head to the side curiously. "You forgot to press the button. Want me to get it?" "Oh! I, er," she fumbled briefly. "Yes. The roof, of course." "I suppose it's true what they say," Domino smirked slightly, hitting the button for her. "You can take the damsel out of the tower, but you can't take the tower out of the damsel." "I... do have a fondness for high-up places," Philomela admitted. More softly, she added, "It's quiet, up there... and the lights still work from when the rooftop used to be a restaurant." "Mmmm, I admit to enjoying a rooftop jaunt myself, every now and then," Domino's grin was Cheshire-wide. "The cars look like mice if you squint." "Yes, well, it was nice to talk to you, but this is our stop," Gwen glanced sternly in Domino's direction. Then, deftly, "Stay warm up there, Agent Towerbird. Don't catch a cold." "Of course," Philomela replied, her voice barely a whisper as Gwen and Domino stepped from the elevator onto the topmost floor, where only Sable and Garnet housed themselves. She wrapped her arms to cover the bare expanse between her forearms and her shoulders-- pale, pale. She was not dressed for the brisk nights of Spring. Saturday, 0309h: Silver Kiss Headquarters "... and so, as you will have seen from the video record, we suspect there may be further inconsistencies in Golden Gun administration than previously anticipated," Brangwen finished her report on mission status, nearly half an hour's affair. "It would be wise for us to take note of any... further developments. Otherwise, we can proceed as expected." "Excellent," Garnet's red, red lips curved upwards into a smile, her silk dressing-gown dripping over her form. She drawled, "As is always the case with you, dear Brangwen. Agent Mittens, do you have anything else to add?" "Is it too late to request Percy Boots for my floor?" Domino's grin was predatory. "I just know the rest of floor thirteen would love playing with him... a cat-and-cat game, if you will." "We'll consider room assignments after we come to a contracted agreement," Sable hummed slightly. She tisked, "Gods forbid we get accused of counting our cygnets before they hatch." "If you have nothing else to add," Garnet tucked a bit of hair behind her ear, red nails brushing her cheek. "It sounds like this meeting is adjourned." "Mmm, what a shame," Domino's tongue flicked out slightly against her teeth, but she knew when she'd been dismissed. Not eager to test the directors' patience, particularly after spectacularly botching the Mochigome assassination, she took her leave first. "Well, if you ladies will excuse me," Sable purred, stretching out the tension in her back. "I'm afraid I have... other business to attend tonight." "Liar," Garnet playfully accused, a low smile spreading over her lips. "We're off until Monday... no meetings, no missions to monitor, nothing. You're excusing yourself for pleasure." "What can I say?" Sable smirked back, pushing herself off of Garnet's pillows. "Pleasure is my business." Gwen's shoulders stiffened. "Do you not think we should go over separation of information protocol? Perhaps stabilizing housing and office arrangements?" "Later today, maybe," Sable's lashes batted beneath heavy lids, seductive even in her sleepiness. "It's almost three AM." "It isn't like you to get tired so early in the night," Garnet pouted exaggeratedly, but her tone could not hide her genuine concern completely. "Back in the day, we used to party past dawn." "That sounds like you might be getting sick," Gwen furrowed her brow slightly, recalling far longer nights spent in Sable's company. "Are you not feeling well tonight? I can get you some tea." "Maybe I'm getting old," Sable shrugged. Still, a defensive edge stole into her voice. "It's been a dreadful week, what with the Golden Gun arrangements and all. Next week's probably going to be even worse, once it gets out to the FBI that we've allied ourselves against them. Can you blame a girl for wanting to rest while she still can? I'm sure you're both exhausted, too." "Mmm... I admit, the paperwork lately has been giving me such a headache," Garnet acquiesced, reclining more loosely against her blankets. "Still, if Gwen's up for it, I'd like to give our mock-up contract another check. Make sure there aren't any loopholes that could be used against us." Gwen's cheek twitched slightly, the subtle insult against her administrative capabilities unmistakable. "The mock-up is flawless, but if you feel that it needs another look, I will be more than happy to go over it. If you ask me, however, it is our list of projected demands and concessions that must be reviewed in preparation for the meeting." "Again?" Garnet rolled her neck lazily, her chin coming at last to rest on her hand. "Well, whatever sets your mind at ease, dear Brangwen. You'll have to go on without us, Sable... I won't get a wink of sleep until I feel like I'm fully prepared." "If you insist," Sable loosely pulled her unzipped jumpsuit over her shoulders-- a perfunctory modesty, when her skin was exposed from navel to breasts. "I'll see you girls in the afternoon... don't have too much fun without me." "Oh, I don't think we'll have a problem with that," Garnet laughed wryly. "It's not a party around these parts without Sable Mimicry." Gwen opted instead for a smile and an uncharacteristically sweet, "Goodnight." Sable hesitated for a moment in her reply-- a split second, but a second enough. The corner of her lip twitched upwards, just slightly. "Goodnight." When the door to Garnet's rooms clicked shut behind her, all pretenses of pleasantness fell between the two women left there in that chamber. "What do you want from me, Garnet?" Gwen lifted her chin, something like steel in her voice. "I know it can't be the mock-up. You spent all of yesterday perfecting it." "No worse than pretending the demands and concessions still need work," Garnet snorted inelegantly. With a particularly mocking viciousness, "You're almost too competent for your own good, oh dearest, darlingest Brangwen." "Don't try to change the subject," Gwen clenched her jaw. "What am I here for? Going to warn me off of Sable again... even now that she's started sleeping around like she used to?" "Mmmm, well, you know I would," Garnet tapped a manicured-red fingernail against her own cheek. "If I thought she really had started sleeping around like she used to." The shadows of Gwen's aura gathered around her thickly, in mists so dense they were nearly cloaks. "What do you mean?" "I mean that my interests coincide with her absolute freedom," Garnet's own magic, as sharp as cold iron, began to cluster in her hands. It was a measure of self-defense, and both of them knew it. "And I suspect that you're not the only one out there trying to cage a swan." "You're lying," Gwen accused, her eyes narrowed. "I won't fall for it, you know." "You can take a little peek into my mind if you want... I won't tell," Garnet chuckled darkly, gesturing towards the tendrils of magic that seeped from Gwen's figure. She pressed her lips together thinly, "There's no point in telling a lie when the truth is already worse." "Really? You'd let me use my mind-reading magic on you to prove it?" Gwen pressed her lips together, tempted for a moment. "I don't buy it... there are spells enough in your possession. Who's to say you haven't figured one out to make me see whatever you want me to see?" "Well, I have," Garnet clicked her tongue, "But I'm willing enough to abandon them this once... for Sable's sake. The clubs in town always ask about my friend, who they haven't seen in months. I've talked to the girls in HQ, asked around here and there... and, perhaps most obviously, she hasn't complained when I've had a little fun with someone she's called dibs on." "That's... that's odd," the dark miasma around Gwen only deepened further, but even Garnet could sense that its hostility was not directed solely at her. "We do not... that is, she hasn't stopped by my suite in a while. Only... once or twice. Only for food." "And yet, she claims to have memories of nights out... dalliances with other Silver Kiss members, always anonymous, always vague. Then she starts claiming exhaustion, and going to bed early..." Garnet scowled. "You and I don't agree on much, Brangwen, but I hope you care enough about Sable's basic safety to back me up on this. There's something suspicious afoot here." "You think that sounds like a memory modification spell," Gwen pieced the last bits of that puzzle together, her magic crackling in the room. "And you wanted me to confirm it because of my--" "Yes. Your particular... abilities," Garnet gestured casually to the inky darkness, the whorls of tortured spirits that hung upon Brangwen's body like a gown. "I'm no amateur with memory spells myself, but I can't deny you've got a certain... expertise with manipulating the mind." "What makes you think it isn't me doing it?" Still, Gwen's magic dampened towards Garnet, the tendrils seeming to dodge her blankets, pooled upon the floor. "Because no matter how much I know you'd love to have Sable Mimicry all to yourself... practically in your possession," Garnet's mouth twisted into a shape of distaste. "You might do something to somebody else, but wouldn't ever actually hurt her to do it." "Well... you're right about one thing," Gwen crossed her arms over her chest, pressing her lips together. "I wouldn't hurt her, not for anything. Still, you're wrong about the magical interference-- I couldn't sense that any kind of spell had been cast on her recently. And you know I check Sable very thoroughly for malignant spells." "Is that what you were doing?" Garnet's eyelashes fluttered. "And here I thought you were just undressing her with your eyes." "Yes, well, you were incorrect about the memory modification," Gwen's lips turned downwards into a moue of a frown. "But... I know how you work. You wouldn't have asked me, of all people, for a second opinion-- not unless you suspected something else was possible." "You caught me," Garnet answered, her tone as dry as salt. "It's only a suspicion for now... didn't even occur to me until earlier this afternoon." "What is it?" Gwen demanded, the howls of her magic reaching a fever-pitch as if they already knew. "I happened to ask if she'd found someone serious... I suppose you could call it a gut instinct," Garnet's eyes narrowed solemnly. "She didn't say no. Must be someone really special if she's passing up nights with Gwen Von Dark or Garnet East." "Then... she's been lying about the nights out," Brangwen's words emerged, stilted. Fury burned at the ends of her tongue. "She may have even been lying about the exhaustion...!" "Or she might be tired from getting up early for a morning bird. Who's to say?" Garnet crossed her arms. "I... urgh. I hate the thought that she'd be willing to intentionally deceive me. At first I thought it was just you again-- you were Sable's favorite for... what was it, almost ten years? But she's like this, even when your schedule's crammed to the fullest." "You mean when you've purposefully filled my schedule so I can't see Sable for a day," Gwen narrowed her eyes. "Helped me figure out that it wasn't you, didn't it?" Garnet scowled, meeting her eyes with all due intensity. "The point of the matter is that something serious like this could be used against her... used against the entirety of Silver Kiss." "No," Gwen's fists clenched, the shadows streaming from her eyes in lieu of tears. "I want them gone." "For once, dearest Brangwen? I agree," Garnet's lips pressed together thinly. "Maybe you know it better than anyone... there's no place for love in this business of ours." "I know," answered Gwen-- and then, the shadows dripped away from her until she was only a girl. "I know." She would not let Garnet see her weep. Saturday, 0132h: Golden Gun Headquarters It had been a very casual, very relaxing evening for Professor Celadon West, PhD of Physimagics and the foremost international expert in explosion containment, presently on extended sabbatical from the University of Oz. (He had never accrued quite so much practical use of that highly particular skillset prior to joining Golden Gun. There was an intriguing discrepancy between the theory and the practice, which made for a fascinating new thesis paper.) "Ah, Ryusei," West mentioned offhandedly, glancing across the room at the head of Golden Gun's IT department. "Do we have an update on the 'Mirriah Glass' situation?" "Negatory," Ryusei replied, not even really bothering to look up from his computer. "They are still in transit from negotiations... though if my calculations are correct, they should be touching base shortly. Knowing exactly which Silver Kiss agents would be spearheading the diplomatic effort, however... it would have been wiser, I believe, to assign perhaps any other agent except Percy Boots as the other half of her security team." "That's what I told him," West pursed his lips, displeased. "But you know the Director. Obstinate as a Cretan bull, and perhaps half as intelligent." "An astute observation, indeed, professor." The slightest corner of Ryusei's lip turned upwards, betraying his amusement. "It stands to hypothesize that he goes out of his way to avoid following good advice, given how frequently he seems to take it into account." "That sounds like you've been collecting data, Agent Arctic," West bit his lip, stifling the urge to laugh. "Do you care to share your findings with the rest of the scientific community?" "A most limited community indeed, within Golden Gun's ranks," Ryusei answered dryly, but nevertheless tapped a few buttons to switch his monitor display to a larger screen at the head of the room. "And I do happen to have a few data tables and charts on hand, though I am afraid I presently lack the sample size to be scientifically rigorous. Another six or seven records of Romeo's reaction to decent advice should bring my sample size up to basic standards." "I wouldn't mind if you were to cross-reference my own records. They should be in the folder marked 'Personal' on my laptop," West replied, not even bothering to feign ignorance about Ryusei hacking into his computer. "I also have record of occurrences pertaining to the quality of the advice in question, though I admit the grading scale is based off of my personal beliefs about comparative sanity, and the study is therefore not objective." "Got it," Ryusei's fingers darted over the keyboard, clacking away. "By the way, I can update your firewall while I'm in here." "If it isn't too much trouble, you would have my gratitude," West turned his head slightly to the side. "All right," Ryusei cracked his knuckles, for a moment, and pulled West's spreadsheets onto the screen. "You've been less opinionated than I have, I must admit, in choosing to record all occurrences of advice without regard to perceived quality-- although, as you have mentioned, the scale you've been grading them on appears to bear some subjectivity." "There is, unfortunately, no standardized scale for common sense," West remarked wryly. "I'm afraid you'll have to make do with my personal opinions for now... unfortunate, as the bias prevents me from publishing in scientific journal. I can imagine my contemporaries' disappointment at being unable to garner insight into the mind of Romeo V. Cupid." Ryusei's eye darted across the page. "I happened to notice a recurring pattern. Every week, there's always at least one day..." "Yes," West tisked. "Very unfortunate, that one." "Location: restaurant. Point of advice: 'be careful, it's hot,'" Ryusei read off the page, utterly deadpan. "Result: did not follow. Burned tongue." "Incredibly, incredibly unfortunate," West covered his mouth, hiding the smile he could not manage to suppress. "It's enough to make a guy wonder... how did a perfectly sane man like yourself end up in his employ?" "It's a simple enough story," Ryusei replied, spinning his chair around to face West. "My first job was as a programmer for Mythosoft... great pay, decent hours, and unlike a lot of the Royal Executive businesses, no mandatory Fairytale Completion for new hires. It seemed like a happily-ever-after of a job." "Mythosoft," West frowned slightly. "One of the director's... better hidden investments." "I made an error in the server room while breaking into the Deep MirrorNet," Ryusei pressed his fingertips together, seeming pensive. "I'm told there was a complaint filed about an exceptional programmer meddling where he shouldn't have. They were going to call in the authorities in when Romeo intervened... said he had another business venture that could use a guy like me." "Of course," West clicked his tongue. Perhaps a bit sardonically, "What is an espionage service, after all, without digital spyware?" "Indeed," Ryusei tilted his head to the side. "Once I was out of there, it was simple enough to erase the virtual evidence of my crime, and on the condition of accepting the job with them, Golden Gun arranged a hit on the executives that knew about it... memory loss powder. Nothing lethal, but I'm not foolish enough to believe that it couldn't have been." "Hmm... such a subtle threat doesn't seem much like the director's style," West noted. "Judging from his facial expressions when I signed the job contract, I am led to believe the threat was unintentional. A side effect of attempting to bribe me, if you will," Ryusei shrugged slightly. "In any case, the job pays better than my previous occupation at Mythosoft, and it's reliable enough-- or it was, at least, prior to being discovered by the FBI. The boss doesn't complain if I engage in illegal activity on work computers, and he doesn't ask questions when I submit requests for budget increases. Perhaps it's not your typical happily-ever-after job, but it is at least... entertaining." "I will admit... for all of the quirks associated with this particular situation," a slow smile spread across West's face. "It is significantly easier to convince Director M to contribute a little extra funding to R&D than it ever was to obtain a research grant from the university board. The head of IT isn't exactly terrible company, either." "Mm. I must confess, I do have a particularly good friend in Research and Development as well," Ryusei glanced up curiously. "Speaking of which... why haven't you left yet?" West creased his brow, seeming perplexed. "Was I... supposed to have left?" "Although you do seem to have some sort of odd fixation with the Director... one cannot help but notice your relative sanity," Ryusei gestured vaguely with one of his hands. "Particularly when compared to Golden Gun's usual consortium of thieves and assassins. It strikes me as odd that you continue to remain here when..." "Things like this continue to happen?" West gestured wryly to his feet, bound in rope as he hung, suspended, upside-down from the ceiling. "It's not an unreasonable punishment, when it was more or less my idea of clearing your criminal records that led to our entanglement with the FBI to begin with. The director was... reasonably upset over finding out that the Fairytale Bureau intended to betray the alliance all along." "You quite clearly advised him to turn down the FBI's offer and dissolve Golden Gun altogether. Perhaps to go into the cinematography or weaponry design business instead," Ryusei pointed out. "It's on page three of your spreadsheet." "I should have known better than to believe anyone here could live a life completely in the eye of the law," West shook his head slightly. "I don't exactly stick to government-approved potion protocol myself." "Nevertheless, twelve hours upside-down is not apt to be particularly good for your circulation," Ryusei informed him professionally. "Perhaps it would have been wiser for you to leave after you were acquitted under forced compliance technicalities at the trial." "That sounds like you're saying that you wished to remain on Antilla Isle," West cocked his head. "I imagine it is very difficult... if not impossible... to escape without an outside agent." "Perhaps I am grateful that you chose to behave foolishly instead," Ryusei's lip twitched inscrutably upwards. "You still haven't answered my question, you know." "Hm," West's smile curved into a mysterious smirk. "Let's just say that I... dislike being in debt. I happen to owe the Director a great deal." Ever with an eye for data, Ryusei prodded, "How much, exactly, constitutes a great deal?" "More than it's humanly possible to pay off in a single lifetime," West chuckled grimly. "My circumstances are... complicated." Ryusei pursed his lips thoughtfully. "More complicated than Golden Gun's usual affairs?" "There never seems to be a simple solution to anything around these parts... that's true enough," West agreed. "Nevertheless, I would prefer to explain them at a more... opportune hour. Do we have another update on the 'Mirriah Glass' situation?" "Ah, yes... it would ill suit us to forget about that matter. Estimated time of arrival, four seconds," Ryusei answered. He gave a few moments' pause. As suddenly as a gunshot, there came in the sound of a door slamming shut, gold-canvassed boots clanking loudly against the linoleum floor as Percy entered, his tail swooping furiously as he muttered under his breath. "As my students would say," West continued conversationally. "Your predictive charting programs are as on point as ever." "You flatter me," Ryusei replied, equally as deadpan. Then, with a deft increase in volume, "Agent Boots. Your hair's sticking up. Your ears are pointed backwards. You are missing your assigned mission partner." "Yeah?" Percy hissed, a wild look in his eyes as he whirled around. "What of it?" "I take it that you came to an agreement on the topic of potential cooperation with Silver Kiss, then." Ryusei seemed utterly unfazed. He pulled up a scheduling program on his computer, "When is the meeting to discuss the terms of alliance?" Percy's brow furrowed further. "How did you--?" "I imagine, if it had failed, you would have returned with a bullet hole or two," West interrupted deftly. "Domino Mittens isn't exactly known for keeping her guns to herself." "It was a basic conjecture to determine that you came to an agreement, given the data available from your current appearance," Ryusei replied, his tone as even as ever. "However, I am unable to infer the details of the next meeting from presently observable phenomena, so if you would..." "Monday," Mirriah's voice cut through the late night quiet. The rest of her appeared slowly as she undid her Cloak of Shadows and draped it over a pale arm. "Two PM. They wanted us to meet them in their tower. I managed to talk them down to a meeting at Bahay Blanco." West frowned, managing to look mildly disapproving even as he hung upside down, suspended from the ceiling. "Bahay Blanco is red light district. Silver Kiss territory." "It was either the classiest restaurant on that block, or walking directly into the lion's den," Mirriah clarified. "I think I made the correct decision." "The lesser of two evils, objectively speaking," Ryusei pushed a few papers aside, drawing a blueprint from his desk. "But we will require a rapid escape plan in case things sour... Bahay Blanco is something of a more exclusive location than the Red Shoes Dance Club. Much more... private. There are certain risks involved with keeping out of the public eye." "An unfortunate situation all around," West sighed. "Luckily, there's enough time to formulate an escape plan in advance. Perhaps we can hammer out the last details of those emergency teleportation watches." "I believe that could work," Ryusei scribbled out a few notes, already pulling up the floor layout of Bahay Blanco's exceedingly chic two-tier restaurant and cabaret. "Whatever," Percy crossed his arms, "Let me know when you've got a plan. I'm going back to my rooms." "As you like, Agent Boots," West acquiesced placidly, altogether unconcerned from where his ankles were bound. Ryusei answered with only a dismissive wave, absorbed in his work already. With a disgruntled scowl, Percy huffed and puffed his way up the stairs, the elevator system of their headquarters still broken-- Romeo, of course, had refused to repair it, seeing how elevators were pretty much useless to a guy who had wings. Not that it would matter soon enough, the thought occurred, and something bitter crossed his face as he realized that they'd have to evacuate HQ again: they'd managed to keep a great many secrets from the FBI, even during their alliance, but the location of their headquarters had not been one of them. His apartment in the building complex stood at the corner of one of the upper levels, a sweeping balcony in the space he called his living room, his glimmering collection of gold and jewels in far tidier array than it had ever been back before he'd become the Moon Rabbit's latest scandal-- yes, he thought, scandal. Celes never quite warmed up to the idea of calling him "boyfriend." Perhaps Percy had too wished to avoid the intimate entanglement, the commitment that came with such a title. Perhaps he'd known some day like this one was on the horizon for him, where there would have to be a choice: the freewheeling lifestyle he'd always known, the thrill of a heist gone right, nights out flirting with prettyboys and femme fatales aplenty... or a life in the law, set to the same repetitive tune of the same monotonous beat each day, but yet, with someone who had stolen his heart instead. "I guess it's true what they say," he murmured to himself, closing the door behind him with a careless shove. "No room for love in this business." His musings were cut short by a flowing whirl of white hair as she emerged from the kitchen, the gauzy fabric of her dressing-gown caressing her legs with each step. Though her eyes belied that she had more or less prepared for the day-- her occupation necessitating an early morning-- she wore her nightclothes still, the light and simple housewear that she had always, always favored. (It never failed to stop his breath for a second.) "Percy!" Celes huffed, crossing her arms. "How many times have I told you not to slam the door on your way in?" "Why, did I scare ya?" Percy grinned, leaning against the nearby wall. "Besides... you just told me yesterday not to sneak up on you while you're working. Make a little noise when I come back." "I said a little noise. Not banging the door loud enough for the whole floor to hear!" she lifted her chin, glaring up in his direction. "Sorry, Cel," Percy winked slyly. "Something else you think I should be banging instead?" "I... what?" Celes' cheeks reddened. "Ugh! You... you..." "What?" Percy chuckled, his mood already improving. "I'm just askin' if you want me to knock before I enter my own house." "I know very well what you meant, and I don't appreciate being teased," Celes sniffed, averting her eyes. "Anyways, your timing is as impeccable as always. It's almost like you time your arrival down to the minute I've finished baking something!" "If you believe the stories about it, us cats are known for having a sixth sense when it comes to these sorts of things," Percy preened, buffing his nails against his shirt. He directed a witty smile at her, "Course, it doesn't hurt to have Ever After's premier pastry chef trying to time a hot meal with my arrival." "I was doing no such thing," Celes rebuffed, but the twitch of her ear betrayed the fib. "Besides, you can hardly call me anything like premier... especially now that my mother's down from the moon." "Don't get me wrong... Mrs. Mochigome's great," Percy purred, tucking a bit of Celes' hair away from her cheek. "But you're a little somethin' new. I like that." "And you, Percy Boots, have terrible taste," Celes deftly donned a pair of oven mitts. "I've let you grow too accustomed to my cooking... possibly, that's made it even worse." "Yeah?" Percy's grin softened for a split second, the idea that he'd stayed someone long enough to grow accustomed to anything an altogether new feeling. "I guess there's no helping it, then. You've set the standards pretty damn high. Don't know if I'll ever be able to go back to eating stray mice and takeout." "Eugh, really? Stray mice and takeout?" Celes wrinkled her nose, even as she leaned down to open the oven door, her houseclothes stretching slightly with the movement. "I take back what I said. Your taste must have always been terrible." "Oh, I dunno," Percy's tongue flicked out over his upper lip for a moment, watching Celes retrieve their dinner from his perch atop the table. "I think my taste is pretty good." Celes flushed, straightening back up immediately. "Haven't I told you before not to sit on the table? People eat there!" "That's not what you said on Wednesday," Percy wiggled his eyebrows mischievously, even as he obeyed. "You're awful!" Celes declared hotly, slamming the baking dish onto the table with a thunk. "Charmingly awful?" Percy grinned, brushing his palm lightly against her cheek. She sighed slightly, and at last acquiesced. "Actually awful, you fool of a cat." And when he leaned in, lowering his face to hers, she kissed back. "So," he exhaled, the heat of his breath against her cheek. "What're you gonna do about it?" Celes averted her eyes, glancing at where her delicate slippers stood, fit perfectly between Percy's heirloom boots, the heat of his skin against her hands, warm even through his clothes. Home, she thought for a moment-- but stopped herself. "I... there's no chance you had a falling out with the Silver Kiss liaisons tonight, is there?" she ventured, the fight gone out of her alongside those words. "Believe it or not, the director only manages to screw up most of the meetings he goes to," Percy chuckled, but the humor rang hollow. "Not all of them." A pause. Celes hesitated. "I see. Then there never really was a point in prolonging the inevitable, was there?" "I dunno. Maybe. Better to have loved and lost, yeah?" Percy fiddled with the ends of Celes' hair, silken soft, between his fingertips. "There's still that mark on you. Not sure how much Silver Kiss was gettin' paid to try and do you in, but you know the type. Dirty, low-down, irrepressibly charming rogues. Can't trust 'em as far as you can throw 'em." "Don't I know it," Celes breathed, her eyes flickering up to meet his for a moment. "And... plans for finalization?" "Monday. Two PM," Percy's eyes drew slightly off to the side. "Wouldn't blame you if you went and skipped town before then." A frown crossed Celes face. "And you're just going to let me leave?" "Yeah, well, what can I say?" Percy tried for a roguish grin, but his eyes seemed soft, too soft to make it convincing. "I prefer you alive. I think you prefer you alive, too." "Yes," Celes shoulders drooped. "That's right. I still have responsibilities to fulfill. To... cater to the gods. Facilitate peace between them. That would be difficult to accomplish if I'm-- if I'm successfully brought into Silver Kiss custody." Percy tucked his thumbs into his pockets. Attempting to feign an air of casualness, he added, "Scarlet'll take care of you and your mom until the whole thing blows over. She and her fiancée live up at the North Pole... safe, isolated, all the Christmas cookie recipes you could possibly ask for. And... don't tell her I said this, but she might be a better duelist than even me." "Right. It's... safer this way," Celes backed away slightly, crossing her arms. "But... I can't leave until tomorrow, at the earliest. My mother still isn't finished packing... I almost can't believe how irresponsible she's being!" "Well," Percy closed the space between them once more. "Thank your mom for me, then." "For not packing?" Celes looked affronted. "For letting me have one more night with you," Percy answered, and pulled her into his arms, his lips meeting hers without even the slightest resistance. They kissed, slow and soft, Celes hoisting herself into the table in an effort to reduce the height gap between them. The still-cooling French toast went utterly ignored as broad knuckles brushed against the pale expanse of her side, as elegant arms wrapped themselves against his shoulders. Then-- a clicking noise. Two pairs of ears pointed upwards in search of the source. The sound of water running in the kitchen sink, and the pair broke apart, startled. "Oh, don't mind me," Mrs. Mochigome remarked cheerfully, setting the kettle on the stove. "I'm just here to make a bit of tea before getting on with my baking... just pretend I'm not here." "Mom!" Celes protested, hurriedly pulling her diaphanous robe closer to her, as if that would somehow undo the situation her mother had caught them in. "It's all right, I remember what things were like at your age," Mrs. Mochigome waved those concerns away. She smiled pleasantly, "Besides... how else should I expect to get grandchildren, hm?" "Mom, no," Celes covered her face, burning red, with her hand. She shot a glare in Percy's direction, "This is all your fault, you know!" "Good morning, Mrs. Mochigome," Percy greeted her as if nothing had happened... though he did toss her a charming smile. "Sorry to disturb your breakfast. Should I take this to the bedroom?" "Percy!" Celes made a scandalized noise. "You are speaking to my mother!" "Oh, no, carry on," Mrs. Mochigome seated herself on the counter, pretending to be absorbed in waiting for the water to boil. "This old Moon Rabbit's heard worse in her own day." Percy laughed, something about the utter normalcy of the situation striking him as oddly hilarious, given the dire circumstances. "It's all right. I gotta go grab a shower, anyways. Wait for me?" "Don't take too long," Celes sighed with something dangerously close to a fond exasperation. "The food'll get cold." "You mean you'll get cold if you keep on wearin' that," Percy shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. He winked, "I'll see both of you lovely ladies in fifteen." "Oh, yes, don't keep us waiting," Mrs. Mochigome waved pleasantly at his retreating back. With an entirely-too casual air, she added, "You know, Celes, I am ever so fond of this one. If you don't marry him, I'll be tempted to snatch him up myself!" Celes, at last, recovered from the embarrassment-- at least, enough to speak properly. "Mother," she began tersely. "I thought you were taking the day off from baking in order to properly pack." "Ah, well, you know how it is at my age," the Lady Moon Rabbit smiled mysteriously. "Tough to break old habits, waking up at this time of day." "I am beginning to think you have no plans to pack at all," Celes frowned. "You know that it's dangerous for us to stay here... especially if we wish to avoid FBI interrogation." "You worry too much, my dear Celes," Lady Mochigome patted her shoulder lightly. "I'll be packed up when I need to be packed up." "Mom, there are actual assassins after us. We are in danger," Celes stressed. "No more than usual... not until Monday, at least," her mother turned off the stove. "I may be old, Celes, but I'm not blind yet. You cannot truly bring yourself to leave a second time, now... can you?" "I must," Celes set her jaw with as much dignity as she could muster. "For the sake of peace between the gods in the ages to come. I... admit that I wouldn't choose this on my own, but nevertheless, I intend to follow my destiny." "Even if your destiny leads you away from where your heart wants to be?" the Lady Moon Rabbit questioned, a knowing look in her eye. "Especially," Celes swallowed, refusing to cry. "Especially then." "Very well, then... your choices are your own," she gave a sly smile. "Though I must admit... I have the feeling that things will work out just fine in the end." "Mom," Celes leveled clearly. "Somebody wants us dead." "All right, all right," Lady Mochigome shook her head. "You've convinced me. I'll start packing after breakfast. Now, Celes, will I be needing to wear earplugs, or...?" "Mother!" Saturday, 0622h: Golden Gun Headquarters "Director," came the professional greeting as Romeo V. Cupid at last returned from his evening flight-- over, now that ruby-red dawn began to seep into the sky, the night air having done little to cool his temper. "I thought I left you tied up in my room," came the cutting retort. "Professor." "Yes, well, as you can see, I'm still tied up. As to your chambers... they're still presently in the process of being ventilated," West replied evenly, seemingly unfazed by the sour mood. "It takes a significant amount of time for the fumes from my magic to fade entirely, and after I had to burn you out of the silks you'd become tangled in--" "Shut it," Romeo growled back, irritation low in his throat. "It's still airing out?" "I had floor personnel take care of it while you were out... but you were terribly tangled. It'll take a while to finish getting rid of the ash stains," West brushed the hair from the side of his face, still in disarray as he hung by his feet. "I requested to be moved to this room so as to avoid getting in the cleaners' way... the rafters here aren't much higher." Almost annoyed that he had no excuse to go off on the guy altogether, Romeo snapped his fingers, pointing to the rope that tied West's ankles. "You know that shit isn't any different from the stuff you burned up back there? You could've gotten yourself out of those any damn time you wanted to. Saved yourself some verdigris." "I'm aware. Nevertheless, twelve hours hanging upside down is the least of repercussions I can pay for my poor suggestions earlier this year... and, really, it's not so terrible. Nothing quite makes one forget which way is up more severely than having one's skull literally liquefy itself, at any rate," West paused for a moment, pursed his lips. "Also, I think you mean vertigo. Verdigris is a shade of green." "Vertigo, verdigris, whatever. It's been a long night," Romeo crossed his arms-- a defensive gesture as sure as any. "Why the hell didn't you get yourself down from there? Are you stupid or something?" "Stupid, you say? Perhaps, in some cases... but if it makes no difference to you, I prefer to call it 'loyal,'" West's lip twitched, almost starting to smile. "I wonder what it says about your administration that you almost expect your employees to disobey direct orders." "It says that my friends are crazy fuckin' arseholes who don't listen to a damn thing. The same kind of dipsticks who'll ditch the lifestyle they've known and loved on some sort of mass-delusion. The hell's he thinking... going against Golden Gun just because of some dime-a-dozen sheila," Romeo's voice raised, his expression utterly livid. He barked out a harsh laugh, "The mad cunt!" West hesitated for a moment, his eyebrows drawing together, perplexed. At last, he questioned, ".. angry... genitalia?" "Zeus and Hades. I almost forgot," Romeo snorted, his laughter still yet bordering on mania. "To put it in terms an American fairytale would understand: I love 'im, but he's absolutely fucking lost his marbles." "We are referring to Agent Boots in this scenario, yes?" West questioned. "Just to clarify." "Because I've got so many agents dating Silver Kiss marks," Romeo arched an immaculately-sculpted eyebrow at him. "Understood," West turned his cheek to the side. "Perhaps you may blame it on the increased blood circulation to the brain, in this position... but I have been thinking about the matter somewhat. Although, of course, if your mind is made up already, I suppose offering my advice would be a moot point at this stage." "Yeah," Romeo answered sharply, pointing in West's direction as if a warning. "It would-- so if you know what's good for you, you'll forget whatever it was you were thinking." "Mn..." West made a faint noise of disapproval. "Unfortunate. Nevertheless... I do owe you a great deal." "Yeah, that's right," Romeo smirked, assuaged by that particular reminder. He waved his hand dismissively, "Go on, make with the forgetting already." "As you like it," West shook his head, equal parts exasperated and amused. "Consider the matter completely forgotten. Ah, which reminds me... I nearly forgot to ask. Are you injured?" "What? Who the hell said I was injured?" Romeo pulled a face of disgust. "Son of an actual god. Expedited healing." "Expedited healing is hardly foolproof... as fools have proven, time and time again," West tisked. "You're putting less pressure on your left hand than you usually do when you cross your arms. Of course... I could be mistaken, but it looks like you have something stuck in your skin. Shrapnel, perhaps?" "Glass, actually. Broke a mirror," Romeo admitted, if but reluctantly. "What, you gonna tell me to get it removed? Sorry to break it to you, professor, but if I go down to medical they'll just refuse to treat me. Gods' healing abilities, yadda yadda, less urgent than mortals in intensive care... or some shit like that." "There's some sort of superstition about breaking mirrors, isn't there? Seven years' bad luck," West mused. "And as to the difficulty in the medical hall... perhaps they would be less hard-pressed for time if we hired more of them?" "I wasn't asking for your input, sweetheart," Romeo spat, looking fit to punch something-- but, alas, forgetting not to clench his fist. "Ow, fuck!" "Well, I suppose someone has to do it before you injure yourself further," West extended his arm, looking rather awkward to be doing it upside-down. "Give me your hand." "What in the nine hells do you want with my hand?" Romeo hissed, clutching where his palm bled. "It's not that complicated to remove glass, you know," West lifted an eyebrow. "Particularly when you know the spell for banishing misplaced sharps. That's basic lab safety... although, I suppose, I can't expect you to remember that from high school science courses." "You say that like I even attended them," Romeo scowled, but acquiesced in holding out his hand. He was unprepared for the way nearly two dozen miniscule shards would come ripping from his skin. "FUCK! You couldn't have made that hurt less?" "I'm a PhD," West informed him. "Not a medical doctor. I never got very good at numbing spells... particularly as it's been a long, long time since I've required them myself." "Eugh... at least they're out now," Romeo grimaced, watching the skin heal itself within moments. "You're making yourself real tough to put up with right now, did you know that?" "Funny," West remarked dryly, making the shards disappear with little more than a flick of his fingers. "I was under the impression that I have already been 'put up,' so to speak. I can't imagine what else you would call this sort of midair suspension." "Ha... bet you think you're real clever," Romeo smirked, pinning the professor with his wickedest of grins. "And, ah, by the way... keep your schedule open for Monday afternoon. I'm supposed to meet some lovely ladies at this charming little sit-down out in the lurks, and I've got the feeling that my... wingman... is gonna bail." "That sounds irresponsible of him," West replied, a slight smile playing upon his own face as he relished in that particular victory tonight. "Bahay Blanco, two in the afternoon... wasn't it?" "You'll be available." It wasn't a question. "Yes," came the answer, sly. "I will be." Monday, 1400h: Bahay Blanco Monday arrived for Silver Kiss, and so too its directors, its agents, its assassins. Garnet, for her part, had prepared well in advance: her papers in appropriate array, her wine-red dress chosen to reveal a tantalizing sliver of her thigh, her Three-Blind-Mauser pistol concealed in her purse. She came dressed to kill in more than merely one way. Though Bahay Blanco stood just down the road from Silver Kiss headquarters-- and indeed, it was popular among her agents especially because of its close proximity-- Garnet would not walk the streets this afternoon, her vehicle of the day carefully chosen from the many company cars in their collective possession. First impressions were everything, she thought... and, if any of those Golden Gun agents were fool enough to open fire in Silver Kiss's own home district, there were plenty of toys in this little black Porsche that would prevent them from so much as escaping the block alive. "Thank you ever so much for agreeing to chauffeur, Kachedis dearest," Garnet purred, a slow smile spreading across ruby-red lips. "And, of course... just in case. You know where the guns are." "I think I can see where their transportation's been parked... just say the word, and the getaway car goes blammo," Agent Hansclod twirled a bit of her hair around her finger. She gave a sultry smile. "Knock 'em dead, boss." "Metaphorically, I hope," Garnet gave her red, red lipstick one last touch-up. "Though if it has to be literal... well, the proprietor did promise she wouldn't be too upset, so long as we paid any property damages." A pair of Bahay Blanco's exceedingly well-dressed ushers scrambled to help her from the car as the door opened, revealing the streetside entryway to the restaurant-cabaret-- and, too, the woman who ran that dining-house with a deft professionalism. "Garnet East," she propped a hand on her hip. "In the flesh!" "Consolacion Blanco," Garnet answered, tucking a bit of hair behind her ear. "Just the woman I wanted to see-- ah, now, now. Can't you tell your boys to give a lady a little space? The poor fools are practically tripping over each other to help me." "It's not every day we get a visit from the directors themselves," Sol Blanco snapped her fingers and pointed at her feet. The ushers quickly backed away from Garnet and knelt there. "You'll have to forgive them for being a little... ah, eager to see things go well." "Oh, don't worry your pretty little heads about it," Garnet cooed, dismounting the car unassisted. She smiled wickedly, "I promise, I don't bite... unprovoked, at least." "Don't scare them too much," Sol laughed, a sound rather like tinkling glass. "It's so hard to find decent help these days." "Oh, you poor thing," Garnet chuckled back. "And the rest of my party?" "Just arrived," Sol flipped her hair. "Top floor. You know where the elevator is." "You, Consolacion Blanco, are a queen among hostesses," Garnet wiggled her fingers in farewell and made her way to the highest level of that building. Busboys and waitresses snapped to attention as she glided past, down, down the hall to Bahay Blanco's most exclusive private dining room, the chic and outrageous décor lining each wall. Serving staff pushed open the double-doors with a commanding wave of her hand, and Garnet rolled herself into the room, the glimmer of each silver wheel radiant in the brightness of the chandelier. It was something of a matter of pride for Garnet East-- the way the rest of the negotiators reacted to her arrival, hushed whispers between allies at last fading into silence. "Well," she grinned roguishly, the scar down her left cheek displaced by that predatory smile. "My apologies for being late." "Garnet," West lifted his face. Though his eyes hid beneath ridiculous hat of his, it was obvious that they were narrowed. "It's been a while." "Celadon," Garnet crooned back, purposefully provoking him with that much-hated first name. "What a surprise to see one of my old storymates in this place." "I see you've been doing well since The Retelling," he pursed his lips. "Apparently, well enough to go into business." "I happen to have an excellent physical therapist. Specializes in story-sustained injury," the corner of Garnet's lip quirked upwards. "I can recommend you if you're still suffering from that little nerve reconstruction problem after The Melting." "No thank you," West's voice emerged harshly. Before he could stop himself: "Not wearing your magirobotic apparatuses anymore?" "For a casual business lunch?" Garnet feigned innocence. "Well, I wouldn't want to seem overdressed. I've always thought walking was more trouble than it's worth, anyways." "Ahem," Gwen cleared her throat with a disapproving frown. "As much as I hate to interrupt this little catch-up game between fairytale storymates, we did actually have business to discuss today." "Of course, dearest Brangwen," Garnet smiled smugly, resting her chin upon a gloved hand. "Your focus is impeccable, as always." "My apologies... business, of course, comes first," West lifted a file from a briefcase at his feet. "We can... catch up later." "We came with queries and... suggestions about the specifics of the merger," Mirriah straightened her posture, quickly realizing that, in fact, some of the greatest mages in all of Ever After had gathered into this room. It would be foolish to underestimate them... any of them. "My sources inform me that the Fairytale Bureau is already suspicious... I'm led to believe they've tracked down one of your agents based off her unique shoes." "Yes... it seems like it would be a good idea to complete the transition as quickly as possible," Gwen noted. "Do you have statistics on how many of your agents could move out of your quarters at a moment's notice?" "Hold on," Romeo crossed his arms, fluffing his wings out in such an obvious attempt at intimidation that it was almost ridiculous. "I'm the director at Golden Gun, and I've got a few things I'd like to say first. Sable, I swear to Zeus, if this is one of your damn jokes--" "My, my, Cupid... what could you possibly be calling a joke?" Garnet clicked disapprovingly, her chin lifted ever so slightly. "Never seen a girl in a wheelchair before?" "Oh, no... I don't think that's it," Sable stage-whispered, smirking as she laid an arm over Garnet's shoulders. "Perhaps he's never been beaten by one before." "Well," Garnet's smile gleamed with vicious teeth. "It's about damn time he was." She made no attempt to conceal that the upper hand, today, was hers. Category:Alternate Universe Fanfiction Category:Fanfiction Category:Fanfiction by Bluebutterflychan Category:Original Character Fanfiction